


Coyote Scales

by staringatstars



Series: Ghost Stories [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackwatch Hanzo Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Young Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 10:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: A raid on the Shimada-gumi during a meet-and-greet with Deadlock results in a rare double victory for Blackwatch. They've arrested the gang, upsetting the structure of the yakuza, and ended up with a pair of young recruits on their hands.With each of them bearing the scars of human experimentation, there's nowhere else for them to go.





	1. Welcome To Blackwatch

Reyes blew on the half-silvered mirror, allowing his breath to steam on the glass, then rubbed out a circle through the grime. On a base populated by soldiers and operatives, plus the occasional ex-criminal, there really weren’t any funds set aside for a maintenance crew, which left the agents to perform the chores. It must have slipped his mind to assign someone to window cleaning duty, though he’d hoped that someone would have taken note of the need and done the job themselves. Honestly, his team had less maturity than the two kids sitting snug as bugs in the designated interrogation room.

It was during a joint raid on the Shimada-gumi and Deadlock that one of their ground agents had discovered a young boy locked in a cage and let him out. At first, the kid had stared blankly ahead, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eventually, they’d had to coax him out with food rations, a feat made more difficult when the long-haired boy didn’t seem to have the firmest grasp on English quite yet. Ana had brought him back to base wrapped in blankets, both to keep the perpetually shivering child warm and to hide the scaly pointed ears atop his head that swiveled to catch each new sound. Though his robes were old and worn, the boy held his head high, carrying a dignity Reyes associated with portraits of ancient rulers, emperors and kings, not a twelve-year-old child. 

Not long after, Reyes caught sight of the disheveled-looking boy of around the same age they’d taken in along with the rest of the Deadlock gang. Word was he’d put up the most fight of the lot of them, leaving scratches on some of his best agents with hard, yellowed nails that curled like coyote claws. From the way he kept casting side-glances at the Shimada kid, it was obvious he was fascinated, both by being in close proximity to someone near his own age and due to the, uh, alterations his so-called family had grafted to his body. 

With Deadlock detained and the Shimada family out of the question - Reyes would adopt the dragon kid _himself_ before he let a single one of those monsters lay a hand on him again - there was no place for either the gangster’s tagalong or the yakuza’s discarded heir to go. They were outcasts, even more so due to the experiments performed on them to craft the boys into weapons. 

Reyes had ordered their shackles removed, hands and feet, to hopefully garner some goodwill. He doubted it’d get him far, but it was a start. No matter how much Rodriguez, sporting three slashes through his stubble, scowled and grumbled, he couldn’t bring himself to look into that interrogation room and see criminals. 

Just a couple of kids served a bad hand. 

“You sure about this, Reyes?” Morrison sidled up beside him, that furrow between his brow that always meant he was worrying about something present. Reyes rarely saw him without it these days. 

He clapped a hand on Morrison’s shoulder, a tight smile on his face. “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything, Jack.” And pushed off to head towards the door, the offer he was about to make already drafted in his head. 

When he stepped inside, the door slamming shut beyond him, the reaction was immediate. The Deadlock boy’s eyes narrowed into slits of bright gold, while the Shimada brat sunk his claws into the table and dragged, curls of plastic spiraling up from under his hardened nails. While Reyes pulled out a chair, getting comfortable for the long haul while enduring an onslaught of Spanish curses that could curdle milk and Japanese demands peppered with English, he made a big show of being unarmed by slowly withdrawing from his pockets a flask and a pair of mugs. Curiosity quieted them as he emptied the flask into the pale mugs, took a sip of each, then pushed it across the table for each of them to catch. 

Shimada sniffed it cautiously, his long conical ears pressed against his scalp. On the other hand, Billy The Kid wasn’t half as picky. After parsing the mug’s contents, a delighted grin split his face, and he guzzled it down, all while the Shimada kid looked on with an expressive mix of astonishment and disgust. 

Reyes chuckled. “It’s not poisoned, you know.” Shimada sneered, showing off an impressive collection of fangs. Whistling low, Reyes shook his head. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” It wasn’t clear how much Shimada could understand, but the tone seemed to come across without trouble, because the boy bristled, rejecting his sympathy with a low, rumbling growl.

Sensing the agents getting antsy outside, Reyes surreptitiously signaled for them to keep their big noses out of it. 

Everything was under control. 

Not long after, Morrison came in with a pair of manila envelopes, deposited them on the ruined table, then quickly made his retreat. In each folder were pictures of crimes committed by Deadlock and the Shimada-gumi respectively. Both of the boys bore the images with disturbing stoicism, though the Shimada flinched at some of the exploits, a glint of fear in his dark eyes. And no wonder. Most of the deaths attributed to the Shimada-gumi’s ‘secret weapon’ looked to be caused by some kind of animal mauling, as they were barely recognizable beneath the lacerations and blood. 

Something unexpected that Reyes learned from going through the Shimada’s file was that the Deadlock kid was incredibly empathetic. His gaze darkened dangerously when the Shimada boy ducked his head in muted shame, until finally it came to a head when he snatched up a picture of a dead yakuza with his throat torn out to shred it to pieces with his teeth. 

Reyes waited until he was finished. “I’m not doing this to hurt you,” he said simply. “I’m doing this so the pair of you know what’s waiting for you if I let the law have you.” And that's if they were lucky. More likely a lab would snatch them up first, pick up where their gangs had left off. Shaking the manila folder filled with gunshot victims and similar maulings, he added, “There’s plenty more where this came from.” Folding his hands, he made sure he had their full attention. And for all that Shimada played at not speaking a lick of fluent English, understanding dawned on his features. “What I’m offering you is a way out. You’ve got nowhere to go. Your gang’s locked up behind bars and if I send you back to the Shimada-gumi, you’ll be back in a cage this time tomorrow.” 

He let them chew on that for a minute, watching the gears at work. “Your brother… He was at school when we scheduled the raid.” And Shimada went rigid, his already porcelain-pale face blanching. “We were hoping that after we weakened the Shimada-gumi, he could be sent into child services, adopted by a loving family. All that jazz." His gaze fixed on the Japanese boy, though he was sure to keep an eye on both through his periphery, Reyes said meaningfully, "But there was a change of plans.” 

The yakuza’s heir worked his jaw, croaking through a dry throat, “You were going to... separate us?” There was a lisp that extended his words to sibilant hisses. Still, it was clearly something Reyes could work with. 

“Kid-” -- “My _name_ is Hanzo.” -- “Hanzo,” Reyes was only to happy to amend. Glancing across the table at the scruffy-haired desert punk, he added, “You want to get in on this?”

“Jesse,” the boy gritted out, shooting Hanzo a glance. “Jesse McCree.”

Reyes nodded, suppressing a grin. He turned his attention back to Hanzo. “To be honest, we didn’t know you existed.” The shock and betrayal that washed over the boy couldn’t have been faked. He honestly hadn’t known, but then it passed so quickly, buried beneath fragile composure, that Reyes guessed he must have at least suspected. Pushing down pity, he explained, “The Shimada-gumi told everyone the kumicho’s eldest son had died as a baby.” 

A sharp intake of breath was the most he got from Hanzo. It was Jesse who snarled.

It soon became clear that Jesse had little loyalty for his gang. They’d treated him with disdain, keeping him fed enough to shoot a gun with accuracy and not much else. He certainly wasn’t going to rot in jail for them. 

In Hanzo, he must have seen a kindred spirit. 

Slowly, Reyes stood up, gathering the folders and photos into his arms. He meant to give them time to process the offer, but before he could step past the threshold, a raspy, “ _Matte!_ ” stopped him in his tracks. 

“My brother-” Hanzo visibly struggled to get the words out, even stopping to swallow and try again. “Genji never saw me in a cage.” He looked up earnestly. “He didn’t know what the clan had me do. If you promise to protect him, I’ll help you.”

Reyes frowned, debating internally if this might be some kind of trick. Some instinct told him it wasn’t, though. Still, that didn’t mean it was easy. “And you, Jesse?” The Deadlock boy jumped in his seat, startled by the address. 

Slouching, he folded his arms over his chest. “‘s not like I’ve got a choice,” he grumbled petulantly. As though he hadn’t been sold the instant Shimada joined on. As though a pink flush didn’t paint his freckled cheeks when a quiet sigh of relief passed Hanzo's lips upon his acceptance. 

Reyes coughed to mask a chuckle, turning away quickly. “I’ll have Morrison set aside a couple of rooms for you, then.” In spite of the sheer disbelief which greeted his words and broke his heart, Reyes forced some levity back into his tone. “Welcome to Blackwatch, boys.”

And as he walked away, informing Morrison that Blackwatch now had a pair of new recruits, he made a promise to himself. Nobody was ever going to be putting these kids in cages again. 

Not on his watch.


	2. Intruder Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of years have passed, and Jesse and Hanzo are starting to get the hang of things, which means it's time for the Shimada-gumi to make its move.

The boys proved to be reckless. Often taking unnecessary risks to prove they were something worth holding onto, not that their worth to the covert operations organization was ever in doubt.

Hanzo took to duel-wielding short blades. Slender and small as he was at the start, it put him in twice as much danger as the other agents when Reyes was eventually forced to put him in the field. What was strange about it was the young teen seemed to regard the practice with some disdain, grimacing visibly at the blood stains on his blades and _gi_. Out of curiosity, Reyes suggested to McCree that he challenge the former Shimada heir to a weapon’s challenge, just to get a feel for what Hanzo was capable of when he wasn’t handicapping himself with a combat style he was pretty clearly uncomfortable with. 

Lithe and quick as a shot, the boy would have been incredible at sniping - if he weren’t quite so bull-headed.

And the results were more than he could have hoped for. Though aching from his last mission, the Shimada scion took to the bow like a fledgling falcon taking to the sky. His sharp, hard-cut features softened as his arrows hit their marks with increasing accuracy and speed, while McCree did a fine job of multitasking - keeping pace with his shots while also gawking at the competition. 

Afterwards, Hanzo gathered the arrows, placed them neatly in the quiver, then dropped them and the bow back on the rack, not giving the weapon a second glance, though Reyes could tell it strained him to do so. Guessing there was baggage there, he decided to drop it. Unless it became a problem, it wasn’t up to him to force these kids into doing anything else they didn’t want to do. 

With all that he'd been through, it was a miracle former heir had a heart left in him at all. That either of them did, really.

After their initial acceptance into the Blackwatch ranks, the pair were forced, like most rookies were, to share lodgings. It went from a nightmare to adorable in about a month when the constant sniping and bickering, with one or both often falling back on their native language to convey the true depths of their frustration, eventually subsided into good-natured teasing and rivalry. They pushed each other to improve without cutting each other down, providing something solid for the other to stand on when the desperate ache for a home that no longer existed for them became nearly too much to bear. 

And if Reyes caught them sharing beds once or twice, curled up together like a couple restless puppies after a close call or the total disaster brand of mission that would bring even older, more seasoned agents to their knees, then he wasn’t about to mention it. On those days, he quietly shut the door. 

Slowly, and yet so swiftly that barely any of them realized what was happening, and through more hospital visits and reprimands that Reyes cared to admit, as well as a boatload more patience, the four of them started to feel like a family. 

That all changed on the fifth anniversary of their indoctrination into Blackwatch.

 

Sprawled out on his cot, with his arms folded behind his head, McCree had decided about fifteen minutes prior that he was far too comfortable to go to breakfast. As any red-blooded young American cowboy would, he had his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his brow to shield his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window, and his boots crossed and propped up on the side of the wardrobe fitted against the end of his top bunk. All that was missing was a sprig of straw and he’d be set to take his rightful place as a charismatic near-do-well in a spaghetti western. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the tumbleweeds rolling past-

“Hey Jesse,” came an amused-sounding greeting from the bottom bunk, and Jesse, despite lying down, jumped a good foot, getting altitude from nothing more than the startled jerk of his entire body. Clutching his chest, a piteous whining escaped his throat while the rest of him struggled to slow the beating of his racing heart. 

The hearty chuckling from below was more than enough of a clue to figure out the culprit, though Jesse had admittedly caught on the instant he’d heard their voice. He peered over the railing to see Hanzo grinning up at him, his scaly ears cocked to the side, fangs peeking out from under his top lip.

“My,” the raven-haired teen in the blue practice gi said, his silky tones dripping with false sincerity, “I didn’t scare you, did I?” 

McCree tossed a pillow at him, grumbling,“I could have sworn I’d asked Torbjourn to install an alarm on that window.” Somewhat insultingly, Hanzo didn’t even bother to dodge it, only grinning wider when it bounced harmlessly off his face. This had the unsettling effect of showing off his teeth, or it would have been were McCree not already used to seeing them. It was something he prided himself on, actually. Very few on base could get the Shimada heir to smile with his teeth the way he could. He winked. “You know, to keep the lizards out.”

Clambering out of the bottom bunk that was now too small for him - Reyes had given his own room for a reason - Hanzo flicked a few strands of hair off his forehead before effortlessly tying them back into a ponytail that touched the midpoint of his back. Once satisfied, he idled over to the window, drawing Jesse’s attention to the sparking and warped lock mechanism on the sill. 

“I disabled it.” And as much as he tried to play it cool, it was easy to see Hanzo was proud of the twisted bit of fried metal his dragons had made of it. It’d taken hours upon hours of working with the ancestral beasts for Hanzo to learn how best to harness their destructive power in smaller, more surreptitious ways, as befitted a Blackwatch agent specializing in stealth and covert operations. 

Not too keen on bursting his bubble, McCree let out a low, appreciative whistle. “So ya did.” And it really was a neat trick, though it would be nice if Hanzo tried using his powers for good for a change, and not for shaving years off the life of his partner. “You know I’m already geriatric in dog years, don’t ya?” A softly huffed laugh was all he got in response while Hanzo worked on sliding open the window. “Say,” he paused when McCree spoke again, however, waiting for him to finish the thought with one leg already standing on the grass, “was there a point to this here impromptu visit or...?”

Hanzo frowned imperiously, as though the reason for the unsolicited wake up call should have been obvious. “You’re missing breakfast,” he said curtly. Then he ducked out, quiet and unobtrusive as a light breeze. In daylight, however, the spiraling ram-like horns atop his head tended to draw unwanted attention no matter how innocuous he attempted to be. For their first Blackwatch anniversary, Reyes had gotten the pair of them their own personalized hoodies and beanies. It wasn’t a fix, but it at least meant they could walk off the premises without worrying about drawing a crowd. 

The freaky criminal kids, that was them. But nothing brings people closer than being feared and isolated together.

At first, it had just been simple curiosity - Who was this kid with weird mutations like his? 

Then it was fear. The fear that this kid who tugged at his horns and scraped at his scales would disappear and leave him behind. And through it all, so gradually or quickly not even McCree knew for sure, he started to think of Hanzo as a something more than a fellow reluctant participant in their commander’s ridiculous bid for youth rehabilitation.

Thick or thin, rain, sleet, snow - they were in this together. 

“Hey,” he called after the ninja’s retreating figure, “wait up!” And scrambled to collect his serape, then lumbered over the window sill after him, banging his head on the frame in his rush. 

And, as always, Hanzo waited for him to come jogging up alongside him, before setting off for the dining hall that would make even marathon runners beg for mercy.

 

“Good morning, boys,” Reyes greeted when they stepped through the entrance. His gaze fell on Jesse, who had his hands on his knees, wheezing. “Just get back from taking Jesse out on his morning run?”

“Yes,” replied Hanzo before Jesse muster the breath to snap a retort. 

“Hey!” 

Accustomed to tuning out their banter, Morrison poked at a tray full of sodden scrambled eggs, the last of the batch since Reyes had opted to let him sleep in that morning, which was why he was currently sporting a sweatshirt, grey sweatpants with the Overwatch logo, and a scowl. Hanzo slipped soundlessly into the space beside him, inquiring as to who was scheduled that week to cook. 

Morrison took a sip of his coffee. “Torbjourn.” He grimaced. 

“Ah.” Hanzo nodded sagely, glancing towards the sounds of pans clanging in the kitchen. “Then I will starve.” 

Sidling in next to Reyes, who surreptitiously shielded his pudding, McCree said with a hearty laugh, “Yeah, I imagine he’s still a bit sour after ya short-circuited all the electronics in his workshop.” 

“That was years ago. I did not appreciate his… humor.”

A twinkle in his eyes, Jesse leaned over the table conspiratorially. “Ol’ Torbjourn went and asked him if he’d cursed any princesses, lately.”

“It was not amusing.”

“I kind of thought it was.” When Hanzo shot him a glare, Jesse demurred, “Just a little.”

Reyes, having decided he wasn’t hungry after all, tossed the pudding to McCree. He caught it without thinking, his ears perking up upon identifying the treat. The rest Reyes took with him to be deposited at the kitchen counter. On the way, he intoned, “He’s not going to poison you, Shimada.”

And out came Torbjourn, his apron stained with milk, oatmeal, and uncooked egg batter. “Did someone mention poison? Now, why on earth would I go and do a thing like that? It'd cost me my cooking privileges, it would.” A wide grin spread across his face upon seeing Hanzo’s dismay, reaching his ruddy cheeks. “Hey, Shimada!” The ninja started. “Catch!” And automatically reached to catch the projectile. He registered it was solid and firm, glanced down to see a ruby red apple glistening between his palms, then devoured half the fruit in a single bite, core and all. 

Impressed, Torbjourn whistled. “Yer no princess, that’s for sure.” Gesturing to the twisted horns sitting on his crown, Hanzo bared his fangs in a humorless grin. 

The blacksmith frowned. 

And just when Reyes had returned from dropping off his tray, when McCree had opened his mouth to speak, looking troubled, when Morrison had drained the last drop of his coffee, the intruder alert sounded, a flashing red siren that threw the base into chaos.

 

“Gear up,” Reyes ordered, flicking the safety off the rifles holstered around his waist while Morrison wordlessly did the same with his blasters and flicked on his visor. By the time Torbjourn had retreated into the kitchen to retrieve his rivet gun and forge hammer, Hanzo had already dashed out of the hall, his katanas unsheathed and gleaming in the morning light. McCree following shortly after, Peacekeeper in his grip. There was no telling how many enemies there might be or where they could be hiding, and as Reyes had taught him - drilled into him, really - one could never be too careful when it came to saving your own hide.

Whether or not the lesson took was debatable, but for now, McCree decided he was better at protecting the other Blackwatch agents and having Hanzo’s back if he were breathing. 

Not that Hanzo wasn’t a doing a fine job of holding his own, Jesse couldn’t help thinking as he watched the Shimada cut down one intruder after the next in the courtyard. They were dressed into loose-fitting black garments that concealed their identities, though the dragon sigil emblazoned their backs still gave away their origin. 

Hanzo grit his teeth, readjusting his stance in the stones bordering the path to compensate for three combatants while Jesse lined up a shot to take out the ninja readying shuriken on the overhang. Most of them seemed to be making a bee-line for Hanzo, which reaffirmed McCree’s personal belief that if it weren’t for being found and adopted by Blackwatch, neither of them would still be alive. 

Pushing out a breath through his teeth, McCree pulled the trigger. The ninja jerked backwards, clutching their chest, then plummeted from their perch without ever uttering a sound. None of their comrades even turned to look, but Jesse did. He always tried to watch the last moments of the people he killed, if he could help it. Call it a courtesy.

Shouts erupted from the main hall, and Hanzo twisted his head to watch an agent stumbled outside with shuriken embedded in his back, pawing blindly at the bladed weapons before falling over onto the concrete and failing to rise. Lips rippling in a snarl, Hanzo disengaged from the stalemate he’d been locked in, leaping over the heads of his adversaries to dash towards the commotion within the building, leaving the clean-up to McCree. 

As the ninjas took to the shadows, vanishing from sight, he sniffed the air, catching their scents on the wind, then gave a big, toothy smile. 

"Bang."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you're all having a great December


	3. More Than Worthless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> _Kowakunai yo!_ \- I'm not scared!
> 
> _Kore wa subete antatachi no seide. Nani o shimashita ka?!_ \- This is all your fault. What have you done?!

The inner halls were much quieter than Hanzo was expecting when he raced in, treading lightly, keeping to the corners and shadows as the training of his childhood had ingrained in him. He found Commander Reyes and a handful of agents, each of them in full uniform, from their bulletproof vests to their helmets, clustered in an alcove. Several of them sat slumped against the wall, clutching at the puncture wounds weeping steadily from their shoulders, sides, and thighs. 

Large targets. Non-lethal.

Or the enemy ninja had to at least anticipate that they would be after their padded uniforms hindered the projectiles. Turning to Reyes, Hanzo asked levelly, “How many intruders are there?” 

Reyes peered around the corner, clutching a radio in his hand, “By my best guess? One.”

While others may have scoffed at the reply, few knew better how much damage a single member of the Shimada could do. They were trained to take on multiple combatants, and their skill sets were actually more suited to working alone than in teams. Given the narrow corridor and the multitude of hideaways, the ninja was certainly in their element. 

A grim smile curling the edges of his mouth, Hanzo stepped out of the alcove, ignoring Reyes’ demands for him to return. “I will handle this,” he tossed over his shoulder, readying his blades. “It is a family matter, after all.”

With his body crouched, centered, and low, he dashed forward, senses alert, his slitted pupils contracting as he scanned for movement in the shadows. A glint of light from above warned him of the oncoming shuriken, and he crossed his blades, keeping their motions minimal in an attempt to deflect the onslaught. After catching the sides of his katana, the shuriken spun wildly off course, though one managed to wing his cheek. 

One of them had sunk a green tip into the wall, where it remained. Hanzo plucked it out, glancing briefly at the custom design, then launched towards the section where the shuriken had originated. Normally, he wouldn’t bother. Ninjas were trained to reposition themselves after revealing their location. But this ninja was aiming for large muscle groups and using flashy, easily identifiable weapons. 

Call it a hunch, but something told him he wasn’t dealing with a professional.

“Ow.” With sharper hearing than most, Hanzo registered the soft exhale of pain, swiveling to track the hushed breaths and beating heart of his adversary lying huddled in the vents. Unfortunately, he recognized the voice, and knowing who it belonged made the cold blood in his veins turn to ice. Quietly tapping into the dragon’s power, he allowed the world to slip into thermal reds and blues, yellows, oranges, and greens. Up there, inside the ceiling, was the scarlet silhouette of a child. 

“...Genji?” His voice came out in a rasp, dread clogging his throat. 

The body in the ventilation system shifted, scrambling to peer down through a grate. “ _Aniki?_ ”

This was impossible. What was Genji doing in Blackwatch? Why was he attacking the agents? Did the Elders order this? 

Realizing that Genji had never seen the results of what the Elders had done to him, Hanzo ducked his head to conceal his altered gaze from the boy innocently attempting to meet it. 

The comm in his ear crackled to life with Reyes demanding, _What in the blazes is going on, Shimada? What’s taking so long?_

His mind conjured images of the rifles those defending Blackwatch held, and in a fit of unchecked instinct, Hanzo twisted around, turning on the agents seeking cover in the alcove behind him with a ferocious snarl, “Stay back!”

His ire vanished upon noticing how his younger brother flinched, leaving behind the taste of ashes in his mouth. “Forgive me,” he muttered, the words falling like stones. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Genji vehemently shook his head, protesting, “ _Kowakunai yo!_ ”

Sheathing his blades with a meaningful glance back at his commander that he hoped Genji wouldn’t notice, Hanzo agreed with a slow nod. “True, you’ve always been brave. Much braver than I.” He picked another shuriken off the tile floor, admiring the sleek design, as well as the neon green accents. “When did the Elders officially begin your training? I see they’re letting you customize your weapons.” 

“On my thirteenth birthday,” Genji replied with unmistakable pride. “The shuriken were a gift. Do you like them?”

“Very much. And have you-”

“I haven’t started helping with the family business yet,” Genji interrupted, heading him off. He glanced to the side, biting his lip. “Not officially, anyway. Ojisan says soon, but I wanted my first real mission to be getting you back.” 

Hanzo looked up in confusion at the wide, earnest brown eyes staring back at him, momentarily forgetting about concealing his features. “Getting me back?” He repeated. “Genji, I wasn’t kidnapped.” 

“That’s not true!” Genji banged his hands against the grate, slipping his fingers through the openings. “Ojisan said you would say these things. He said you would be confused after all these years among outsiders.” Through the gaps, Hanzo could see his expression harden with anger as Genji began to retreat further into the vent. He called out for him, no longer caring if Genji saw scales and horns. Not when the sound of Genji’s racing heartbeats was moving farther from him and closer to the group of soldiers in wait. “ _Kore wa subete antatachi no seide. Nani o shimashita ka?!_ ”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Hanzo raced after him. He drew his weapons, shouting at Reyes through the comm, “Tell your men to stand down!” He managed to position himself in front of the soldiers just as Genji exploded from the vent, parrying the hail of kunai and throwing stars with his blades. In his periphery, he spotted Reyes firing off the prongs of a taser. Such weapons weren’t made for use on a child. 

Ignoring Genji’s shout of surprise and frustration at being thwarted, he surged forward, throwing his weight against his chest to get him clear of the projectiles. The end result was Genji slamming his back against the wall while the prongs buried themselves into Hanzo’s shoulder. Thinned-out lips spreading into a sneer, Hanzo ripped the prongs from his flesh, their tips crackling with electricity he could feel coursing through his limbs, burning through his fatigue. 

He shot Reyes a warning glare before tossing the sparking tips at his feet. 

Genji stared up at him in disbelief. “Why are you defending them?!”

“Because Blackwatch rescued me.” Hanzo sheathed his blades, making it clear that he didn’t want to fight. “It was the clan that made me this way.” Allowing his bitterness to show, he gestured to the horns, the scales, the yellowed sclera. “They locked me up, treated me like an experiment.”

“But the Elders said-”

“I was kept in a cage, Genji,” Hanzo interrupted, not unkindly. “Even if this all wasn’t some elaborate ruse to assassinate the kumicho’s remaining heir, do you really think I’d want to go back?” He understood how hard it would be for someone indoctrinated into the clan to believe these things, but even so, he knew he had to try. He’d already left Genji to the mercy of the clan once. There would not be a second time, even if it meant returning to Hanamura once more in chains. 

He watched with learned patience as Genji worked through the implications of his words, his eyes widening. “Remaining heir? But that’s…”

“You’ve barely even started your training and they sent you to take on a heavily armed organization. What else is that but a suicide mission?”

Luckily, Genji was quicker on the uptake than he’d anticipated, because it wasn’t long before a mask of cold rage contorted his features, making the boy look fearsome in his shinobi garb. “Those wrinkly bastards,” he growled, “are trying to get rid of us.”

“Yes.” Briefly closing his eyes, Hanzo breathed a quiet sigh of relief. When he opened them again, an unnatural bluish glow obscured his pupils. “However, if killing you is their wish, they will have to try harder-” A bullet shattered a window across the hall. Pivoting on his sole as he drew his blades, Hanzo deflected the projectile, changing its course from the center of his brother’s chest with a feral snarl. 

Outside, McCree rose his hands to the sky, dropping Peacekeeper. “My bad! Nobody tells me anything around here.” 

Genji gaped at Hanzo. “You dual-wield now?”

Offering an awkward shrug, Hanzo hastily put the blades away. “I thought I was never going to see you again.” He stubbornly averted his face. 

Genji edged closer, even ducking to get a peek of whatever it was Hanzo was trying to keep him from seeing, “Aren’t you happy to be wrong, _Aniki?_ ” He blinked in surprise at what he found, shortly before Hanzo, with an audible huff of frustration, pulled him into a hug. There was a flush in his cheeks and a wetness in his eyes, but Genji didn’t care. His brother smelled like sandalwood and pine, like oil and polish, like wind and a summer storm, the same way he always had. 

Reyes glanced at them, his attention split between his subordinate’s family reunion and a status report on the rest of the base. “All the other intruders have been neutralized. Now,” putting his hands on his hips, he cocked his head as he addressed the odd pair, ignoring Genji’s scowl, “what to do with this one?”

“You can’t send him back to the clan,” Hanzo replied instantly, placing himself protectively in front of his brother. “They’ll kill him. The Elders have been in power for too long, they will never relinquish it to a new kumicho without bloodshed.” While he spoke, McCree slipped inside.

Reyes shook his head. “One Shimada is more than enough. This isn’t some kind of adoption agency.” Standing behind him, Morrison made a show of rolling his eyes. 

“Understood.” Bowing low in gratitude and respect, Hanzo continued, “Then we will take our leave. Thank you for sheltering me all these years.” 

When he and Genji started walking towards the exit, Reyes stepped forward, “Not so fast, Shimada. Nobody’s kicking you out. McCree, where are you going?” Neither of the siblings had noticed that Jesse was following their lead. The cowboy was unexpectedly quiet for someone in spurs. 

“To pack my things,” Jesse replied as though it were obvious. He lifted his shoulders, affecting an easy shrug, and jabbed a thumb towards his partner. “I go where he goes.” 

While the other agents found jobs to do that didn’t involve watching a stand-off between their boss and his protege, Reyes glowered at the trio, and all the while, Morrison did his best to keep a straight face. “Jack,” he barked at last, “wasn’t there a spot open in the intelligence gathering division for another field agent?” 

“Sure is,” Morrison replied eagerly, coming forward with a pen and notepad. “So long as you fill out the proper paperwork, undergo a short interview, and concede to a monthly visit by a social worker to ensure that everything is going smoothly with your new agent.”

"Ha. You're hilarious." Reyes snatched the notepad and pen from him, "Give me that." He sketched out a design, quickly colored it, then ripped off a piece that was roughly the size of an iron-on patch and thrust against Genji’s chest. Genji looked down to make out through the Blackwatch Commander’s fingers a shape that resembled a cross between an airship with a sword on it and a skull. He turned around to see Morrison smiling knowingly and bristled. “What?!”

While Hanzo uttered a soft sound of surprise, Jesse whooped loudly, clapping Genji on the back with a hearty, “Welcome to the team, kid!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have a fantastic day!


End file.
